


Little Family

by TheEnchantedQuill



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Cute Kids, Cute little family, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Fluff, Growing Family, I love them so much, M/M, Mama Ratchet, Optimus is the best dad, Toddlers, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnchantedQuill/pseuds/TheEnchantedQuill
Summary: Just a sparkling waiting for his dad to come home.





	Little Family

**Author's Note:**

> Some family fluff with my two favorite gays :)

Tiny servos pressed flush against the glass, round optics scanning the outside hopefully. A mech was striding by the housing unit, carrying a tool box, humming to himself, glancing up to see the small pair of eyes watching him. A small laugh left him, and he waved at the sparkling as he passed by. 

The little mech slumped in disappointment, waving back with little interest. False alarm.

“Get down from there.” His carrier chastised him from his desk. The mechling obediently scrambled down from windowsill, galloping to his mother on stumbly legs. He had only just learned how to walk and run recently, which opened the door to all sorts of new ways to get into trouble. While he was an expert in crawling and climbing into spaces he shouldn’t be, graceful sprinting was still something he still needed work on. In the last few feet of his dash, he tripped, crashing into his carrier’s legs. 

A soft noise of affection rumbled in Ratchet’s chest, and he scooped his little creation into his lap. The mechling let loose a garbled mess of whines and squeals, pointing at the window. His carrier smiled at him knowingly. “He’ll be home soon, Little One. Be patient. Do you want to help your carrier?”

The mechling nodded, crawling from Ratchet’s lap and onto the desk. Ratchet was repairing a boxy device, which required a full deconstruction. The parts were neatly laid in order across the work table, well, they used to be. His sparkling picked up the small bits and tapped them together, holding the parts in his tiny fists as he examined them closely. He bashed them together, hoping to make them connect, and repeated the process gentler after his carrier sent him a warning look. 

They worked together quietly, the little mech ‘helping’ his mother. Ratchet had made him his own little set of toy tools, of soft material, so he could participate in projects without really doing anything. The mechling pounded one part with his soft hammer, convinced he was doing something, while Ratchet praised him and lovingly told him how good he was doing. 

After some time, the sparkling decided he was done, and promptly crawled back into his carrier’s lap, tapping Ratchet’s chest for attention. Soft optics met his. He gargled and squeaked. “All done?” Ratchet stroked his little helm affectionately. The sparkling pulled himself up to bury his faceplate in Ratchet’s warm neck cabling, whimpering. “He’s coming, Love. I promise.” His mother murmured reassuringly, rubbing his back. A small sniffle answered him. “In fact…”

The front door to their housing unit opened, a large form filling the driveway. “I’m home,” a deep voice filled the room, a warm smile greeting them. The mechling shot up, squealing. 

“There’s your sire.” Ratchet chuckled as he placed the little mech down so he could run to his sire. 

“Hello, my little mech,” Optimus’ spark melted at the sight of his sparkling dashing to him, whining happily. He scooped the tiny mech up, nuzzling him lovingly. 

“He’s been waiting for you.” Ratchet pushed his chair back and stood, setting down his tools. 

Optimus lifted his son onto his shoulders; the sparkling giggled and held onto his tall audial fins happily. “Is that so?”

The mechling pointed and let out a shrill noise of excitement. His carrier understood, moving to the small table in the living room and picking up a piece of paper. Around noon, the sparkling had plopped down and scribbled away, scrabbling out a drawing of his sire with the intention of giving it to him.

“He drew something for you.” Ratchet held out the drawing to his mate, their fields reaching out to one another and caressing each other lovingly. 

Optimus hummed, basking in his medic’s warm field for a moment, before tenderly taking the paper, handling it just as gently as he had held his sparkling. “Wow,” he said in awe, “You did very good, Little One.” The mechling leaned over his helm and pointed to various details of the drawing, squawking. “I see, very nice… What a wonderful drawing. We’ll save this one, won’t we, Sweetspark?” His kind optics flicked up to his mate.

“Of course we will.” Ratchet moved closer. 

The Prime draped his arms around the smaller mech, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Ratchet hummed into his mouth, engines revving happily. Their sparkling whined and swatted at his sire’s helm, wanting his parents attention on him again. 

“You know, he was mine first, Little Mech,” Ratchet rolled his optics. 

The mechling squealed, flapping his little arms. His sire set him down, and he stumbled over to the desk, pointing out where his carrier had been working. 

“Did you help your carrier today?” Optimus smiled at him. “You are such a smart little mech. Just like his carrier.”

“And handsome just like his sire.” Ratchet pulled his Prime in for another kiss, now that their creation was off and running around. “How was your day?”

“Better, now that I’m home.” Optimus held his mate close. “Much better.” He purred, pressing gentle kisses to Ratchet’s forehelm.

“I have something to tell you.” Ratchet pulled away so he could see Optimus’ face. “I’m carrying. Again.” He added with a smile. 

Optimus  _ beamed  _ at him. “Ratchet, you’ve given me everything I could ever ask for…” He hugged his medic tightly. “My beautiful family…”

There was a crash from the next room. 

Ratchet sighed tiredly. “Go see what your son’s doing.” 


End file.
